Consider a Kitten
by Psamathe
Summary: Rumple has a very bad day...


Rumpelstiltskin was not fond of kittens. Cats he didn't mind so much. They generally ignored him and he was happy to return the favour. Kittens on the other hand … it wasn't the fact they always tried to play with him or that their general fluffy cuteness gave him toothache… it was, some might say, an irrational hatred having no basis in solid facts. Some might have called it a phobia, except the Dark One didn't subscribe to the idea that he was actually afraid of anything. All of which served to make his current choice of disguise a curious one.

It had seemed a sensible decision at the time. A little girl calls his name and what better way to ensure that he didn't scare her than to transform himself into a baby cat? The fact that he had even considered not being frightening should have been a cause for concern. Then again, he had always had a bit of a soft spot in his black heart when it came to children. Of course the little girl had turned out to be a wicked witch and had slapped a magic collar on him negating his power and leaving him as helpless as a … well … as a kitten. Rumple had only managed to escape by clawing his way up a tapestry and squeezing through a broken window. One of his paws had snagged on the ragged glass and he was now limping back to the Dark Castle, hissing and spitting as he cursed himself for being a fool.

The collar was too tight, it itched, and there was no way he could get it off without help. He tried though. Scratching and tearing at the leather until his neck was bleeding. Great lumps of grey fluff had come away leaving ugly bald patches and broken skin. The only slight positive thought he had was that he was close to home. That was until the icy rain started to fall, drenching what was left of his fur. Hungry, his tiny body was so cold that he had stopped shivering some time ago. He was walking on three legs by the time he finally crossed the boundaries of his land.. At least here, he would be safe. He could sleep, lick his wounds and…

The Dark Castle had many layers of protection. The journey through the surrounding mountains was usually enough to keep most casual visitors at bay. Add the moat, not to mention the wards that surrounded the place and his home could be described as pretty close to impregnable. But Rumplestiltskin was nothing if not thorough which was why he'd added a solid oak door to the main entrance.

A door that he'd shut behind him as he'd left.

A door that could only be opened from the inside.

Rumple sat on the steps and yowled his frustration. He'd lived there almost three hundred years and this was the very first time that he'd locked himself out. Unable to stay where he was Rumple limped his way around the walls. Hoping that there was some secret entrance he'd forgotten about, some window left open … even a hole in the wall that would give him some shelter from wet and the cold. And there, thank the gods was a light shining high up in the darkness. The library.

A pine tree would take him most of the way up there … if he could manage to climb that far. Gritting his little kitten teeth, Rumple set his claws into the soft wood and started to edge his way upwards. The rain was still falling, making his grip tenuous at best. Every time he slipped back, Rumple just dug in harder, ignoring the pain in paws that were now raw and full of splinters. Only when he was level with the window did he dare look around. The distance was further than he expected. Even edging along a narrow branch didn't bring him as close as he would have liked. Gathering himself, Rumple took a leap of faith and with a scrabble of claws managed to haul himself onto the window ledge.

He peered through the glass and mewed. The room was softly lit with candles, its only occupant curled up in a chair with a book in her hand and a dreamy expression on her face. The view might have been pleasant … if he hadn't been trapped outside in a rainstorm with the wind threatening to pluck him from his precarious perch. He meowed again, setting up a steady cry that he hoped she would hear through the thick glass. She turned another page and took a sip of her tea.

Lighting flashed and thunder smacked overhead. Belle looked up from her book, a frown creasing her face. Uncurling herself from her chair, she came towards him, her hands reaching for the curtains. Rumple banged his head against the window in frustration.

He heard the small cry she uttered as she saw him. Without hesitation, she climbed onto the sill and pushed the window open. Rumple scuttled backwards as far as he dared but his strength failed him as he tried to leap inside. He hit the glass and slipped backwards only for a small hand to snatch him from certain death.

'Where did you come from?' Belle questioned, once she had him safely inside.

He was so pathetically grateful that he swiped her finger with his tongue. The tiny kitten kiss made her giggle.

'Aren't you a cute little…' she began and then, to his horror, she turned him upside down.

'Well … you're definitely a boy.'

Rumple mewed and shook his head, batting at her with his pathetic claws but Belle only chose to notice his bloody front paw.

'Oh you're hurt … you poor little thing.'

She cuddled him close against her breast as she carried him downstairs. Rumple tried to wriggle away from the overdose of soft sweet scented skin but Belle held him fast, tightly enough that he could feel her heart beating. She took him to the kitchen, setting him on the rough hewn table before she moved to stoke up the fire and put the kettle on the stove. Rumple was a shivering mess of mud and bloodied fur. He curled up as small as he was able to.

'I'm sorry, you're not going to like this,' Belle apologised as she dumped him into a shallow basin.

Rumple yowled as he wriggled in her grasp, his kitten senses going into overload as he came into contact with the warm water. Belle held him firm as she gently cleaned him up and Rumple had no choice but to passively submit. In truth, he didn't have the strength to put up much of a fight. She finished by binding up his paw with soft linen.

'I'll bet you're hungry too?'

He mewed, making Belle laugh again. She poured a dish of cream and set it in front of him.

'I usually save this for his tea,' she said.

He sniffed at the cream. Not his usual choice of supper but he supposed he wasn't in a position to be fussy. Belle sat down at the table, her head resting on her folded arms as she watched him.

'I wish I could keep you. It gets very lonely here, especially when he's away,' she sighed and then shook her head. 'Listen to me … talking to a cat.'

Her smile, this time, had a sad bitter edge. Sitting back on his haunches, Rumple raised his bandaged paw and gently tapped her cheek. Belle's fingers touched the collar.

'You must belong to someone.'

Rumple shook his head. He started scratching at the leather again, hoping that she'd get the point.

'Stop that,' she warned, catching him up in her hands once more.

He couldn't live out his life this way … weak … defenceless. Not again. Not ever. Rumple wanted to bite her gentle hands, scratch her perfect skin. Surely she could see the way it dug into his neck?

'Is it hurting you?' she asked. 'It really is far too tight.'

He held himself still as her nimble fingers traced the edge of the leather.

'There's no buckle!'

Of course there wasn't. It was biding magic; it wouldn't just let itself be undone. It resisted knife and scissors alike, drawing itself tighter with each attempt she made. He was gasping for breath by the time she finally gave up.

'I'm sorry,' she said as she scratched him behind the ears.

Rumple rubbed his face against hers, knowing that she'd done her best. Belle frowned.

'I wonder…?'

And then she gathered up her skirts and raced from the room. He heard a crash from the hallway and realised that some potentially priceless object had probably fallen victim to her haste. For lack of anything better to do, he batted at a stray beam of moonlight that danced across the table.

Belle returned more slowly than she'd left. She was carrying a very small bottle in her hands. Rumple scuttled backwards as she set it down. Acid? Did she really think …?

'This might hurt… but I don't know what else to do.'

There were actual tears in her eyes as she opened the vial, sucking up some of the foul smelling liquid in a pipette.

'Hold very, very still,' she told him.

Rumple did as Belle asked holding his breath as she let one drop fall. The pain was nothing like he'd ever experienced before … which was saying something for a man who had smashed his own ankle. The leather fell away in an instant even as his flesh burned. Belle tried to soothe him, but Rumple couldn't let her close. He knew he hurt her. Scratching, biting … leaving ugly marks on her perfect skin. Somehow, she managed to hold onto him, just long enough to dunk him back in the bowl of water. Relief was instantaneous.

'There you go,' she crooned softly as she rubbed a soft towel over his fur.

She picked up the collar and tossed it into the fire.

The burn had receded to a dull ache but Rumple was exhausted. He didn't have the strength to shed himself of this form … not with the price that the magic would demand. He lay limp in Belle's lap, letting her babble meaningless words at him, taking comfort in the way that she stroked his damp fur.

And eventually, without even meaning to, Rumpelstiltskin started to purr.


End file.
